So It Begins [OTA]

[heliacalrising]

Sirrus sat at the corner table in the cafe.  He faced outward so as to watch the crowd if he so chose, but he was preoccupied at the moment.  His journal was open, his hand flying across the page so fast it was a wonder he was writing anything coherent.  His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows to avoid the ink that always seemed to get in the most

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[celeryboy]

Not much time passed before a man bustled (he seemed the high-energy sort, incapable of doing much else but bustle) into the cafe, ostensibly to fetch a cup of tea and a moment alone before returning to what may be called in certain circles: "work". The sketches in that book drew his attention, however, and he stopped at the table to admire the work.

"Oh, I say," he murmured, resoundingly impressed. "That is excellent draughtsmanship. Is that...?" He squinted a moment, then took the time to put on a pair of wire-framed glasses before getting his nose closer to the page. "That's a schematic for the station, isn't it?"

[heliacalrising]

"Yes, those are the station schematics," Sirrus replied, slightly irritated that his solitude has been interrupted, though pleased that his work was admired. "Floors, maintenance shafts, air vents, heating and cooling systems, every shop, stall, tavern, and cafe - all here, accurate to within a half a foot of the actual position."

He glanced at the strange plant-wearing man over the rim of his glass. "Did you need something?"

[celeryboy]

"The entirety of the station marked and mapped. Rather impressive, if I do say so myself." And, of course, he did. His shoulders leveled and he grasped his hands behind his back, perhaps in an effort not to pilfer that book without permission from its owner.

But what he wouldn't give for a few hours with it, coupled with the TARDIS scans of the station levels...

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "Answers, which seem to be in short supply in Zion 8, but I've not given up the attempt to search those out. I'm the Doctor." He punctuated the introduction with a stretched-out hand.

[heliacalrising]

"Sirrus, Director of Research," Sirrus shook The Doctor's hand, noting how his eyes were not really on him but his journal. He had to watch him. "You must be the incarnation that the other Doctor was speaking of. I see you share his... eccentricity." He nodded to the vegetable pinned to his jacket.